The Tooth Fairy Had Nothing To Do With This
by binnibeans
Summary: After several decades of being together, America decides it's time to take things a step further and propose to England.  Fluff


This was written for the **usxuk** community's mods, as a thanks for all the hard work they do! I hope you all can enjoy it, too! The full title is The Tooth Fairy Had Nothing To Do With This, Thank You Very Much, but FF doesn't allow such a long title, apparently.

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><p>There were a few things America expected when visiting England.<p>

1.) To be offered scones. (Ew.)  
>2.) To be offered tea. (Double ew.)<br>3.) To be scolded for not putting his shoes against the wall in the foyer properly. (Ugh….)  
>4.) To eat any food he was served as quickly as possible. (Triple ew and double ugh.)<br>5.) To— Well. Sealand was no longer allowed to visit when America was or to ask just what kind of wrestling involved _that_ move. (Triple and Major ugh—especially since Sweden was _still_ giving the both of them _The Look_.)

That night, though, he was counting on something a little different. Most nights, England's hands and arms would crawl under his pillow to fluff it up just right. America was counting on it tonight; he had a bit of a surprise in store, but even if it was the most perfect setup, it had the very open option to go completely wrong. America hadn't planned for that scenario, absolutely positive at the time of planning that this would go off without a hitch, but lying in bed now after a particularly pleasurable round of more "intimate international relations" (America had been rather proud of coming up with the euphemism, England's exasperation be damned), his heart was racing and he felt something he never really felt very often before: Nervousness.

The day had been very nice, though, with the two of them simply enjoying the other's company. Yes, there were a few squabbles here and there, but they ended soon enough. After lunch they stopped at a café for tea and coffee (America never remarked how the woman behind the counter mistook the salt for sugar—Worst. Coffee. Ever.) and then England led them to a museum. At first America was sure that he was about to be bored out of his mind, looking at paintings, but England had surprised him. The museum was having a special exhibit on archaeology and America had been so excited that England had to drag him out within five minutes lest he go through and knock over one (or several) of the displays. That was okay, though, because the next of their stops was at the cinema where England decided they would watch an old late '40's movie.

Although it was not widely advertised, there was a soft spot in America's heart for cinematography and he still very much enjoyed the older movies; watching them on Turner Classic Movies whenever he wasn't busy blowing zombies' brains out with Tony. The movie had been nice, though, and rather expected of England. It was an old romance flick and England had let his guard down only halfway into the film, locking his fingers with America's and resting his head on America's shoulder. At the end credits, America hadn't wanted to move or leave, but his stomach had other plans, growling loudly at the death of the last note of the movie's score. Dinner it became soon after, which almost ruined the evening. England had been insistent on Restaurant A, but America insisted otherwise, claiming that Restaurant B was better (because they had an American as a head chef, but America kept away from mentioning that little fact as he wasn't about to go on and worsen the argument). Finally America won and, as hard as it was, he refrained from ordering a hamburger to instead settle on a BLT while England chose a salad.

So finally, they were relaxing back at England's house, while America's plan was (hopefully) about to be put into motion.

"America, why didn't you cap the toothpaste when you were done with it?" England called from down the hallway. America's heart jumped a little bit as he sat up, taking the covers with him.

"Uh," he began. "I knew you'd be in there in a minute?" America winced in anticipation of a small scolding, watching as England came into the bedroom clad in a plain white tee-shirt and longer, flannel pajama pants.

"That doesn't give you an excuse to not follow your routine though."

_Oh, I hope I can make sure this one goes all the way…._At least England wasn't scowling as he normally did.

America offered a small smile in response as England crawled into bed after shutting off the light. Of course, America required a small night light when he visited: England had finally caved, allowing America to plug in his Most Definitely Super Cool Batman night light but it had more than the purpose of chasing off the monsters under the bed that night. With the light it provided, America would be able to tell just what was going on without anything seeming too conspicuous. (Let it never be said otherwise, however: America was certainly positive that there were many monsters beneath England's bed.)

"Sorry," he said, sliding further now into the covers. His eyes were focused entirely on England, urging him silently to reach under his pillow. _Come on—come on, please! Your pillow is flat, isn't it? Make it comfy!_

"Just make sure to cap it next time, lest it dry out and be useless."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. So…." America's fingers worried the sheets. "What're your plans for tomorrow?"

England laid his head down as he pulled the covers up under his arm and turned on his side to face America. "I have to drop off a few things to Parliament tomorrow—"

"Oh, say 'parliament' again."

"…Parliament?"

"The way you say it is really sexy. Okay, go on."

England shook his head, unable to hide the smallest hint of a grin from his eyes. "That's all I've to do tomorrow. I was thinking … we could just have the day to ourselves beyond that, actually." The reflection of light shifted on England's eyes as he fixed his gaze somewhere above America's head.

"What were you thinking of doing?"

Coughing slightly, England said, "Nothing grand—just relax and stay in, perhaps."

"That sounds borinnng."

"Then you come up with something better!"

America already knew what he'd rather do the next day. If only England would reach under his pillow…! Then an idea hit America. "Say, England, since you believe in all those imaginary creatures, do you believe in the Tooth Fairy?"

It would totally work.

England appeared a little shocked at the sudden turn of topic, but cleared his throat. "It really depends on which tradition you look at; English tradition or British." He paused for a moment, as if thinking. "One of your movies poorly integrated it into your own ideas of the Tooth Fairy, actually."

America wracked his brain, trying to think of movies involving the Tooth Fairy. At first he could only think of the Disney movie, _Toothless_, but then it hit him and he shivered. "_Darkness Falls._"

"That's the ticket. In English tradition, the child loses the tooth and burns it so the witch can't get it or keeps the tooth with them at all times. If the witch gets a hold of it then … the witch can possess the child, but America, what does this have to do with anything?"

"Nothing with a pillow?" …It was a totally legitimate connection by him!

"The British version involves the pillow, but I still don't understand what that has to do with anything, honestly."

"Uh…. Nothin' I guess…?"

England just gave him an odd look and a minute shake of the head. He probably thought America had finally lost it, but he hadn't! He just needed England to put his attention on his pillow! Unfortunately, the way this was turning out was Very Not According to Plan and was driving him crazy. It was time to take matters into his own hands. America rolled towards England, as if trying to push him off of the bed. Of course, England … didn't find it quite as amusing.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, trying to push back. "This bed is more than large enough for the both of us. You've plenty of room over there!"

A pout manifested itself on America's face. "But I like that side better! It's closer to the door. What if a ghost appears and I have to make a run for it?"

Now England was just plain irritated. "You want to switch sides? Why didn't you just get on this side earlier?"

"I didn't think about it before!"

"What a surprise _that_is," England mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Ugh—fine, fine."

England stood up from the bed and yes—yes! He grabbed his pillow!

And didn't bother to look and see what it had been hiding! America snatched the object, hiding it beneath his own pillow for the moment and quickly remembered what was hiding just beneath his side of the bed. England couldn't get on this side at all.

"W-wait!" he called. His hand was out, the other clenching the corner of his pillow. "I changed my mind! I can't just leap for the door if a ghost appears! I have to stay and protect you!"

"That's all very well and fine, but make up your mind, for the love of God, America!" England's grip on his pillow appeared very tight. He'd already made it to the foot of the other side only to turn sharply on his heel to stomp back around.

America winced at the discontent, hearing England mumble something about ghosts and being able to protect himself just fine, thank you very much. England practically threw himself back into bed and while he was getting his pillow ready to toss down, America slid the surprise back.

_Fluff your pillow, England! Come on!_

But England didn't look to be doing that any time soon. Instead he just lay on his side, facing away from America, a few mumbles escaping him every now and then.

"Oh, come _on_…!" America muttered to himself. "_Really_?"

America threw his covers back, finally giving up on relying on England fluffing the pillow up. He grabbed the one surprise that was just peeking from under the bed and stomped his way around to the other side. England had propped himself on an elbow, his eyes questioning America's actions, but changing extremely so when America thrust Surprise 1 into him.

It was a rose. Normally clichéd, America knew, but he also knew what a romanticist England was, what with all of his Jane Austen novels littered around the house. This wasn't just a rose, though.

"America, how on Earth did you manage this?" he asked, touching at the petals with a careful tenderness.

It was a Tudor Rose and while genetically impossible (the botanists that America had seen spent an hour explaining why it was impossible, although America still wasn't entirely sure why it was), America had convinced (read: bribed) Tony into helping him out.

"Cuz I'm just that awesome," he said nonchalantly, dropping down to his knees. He shot his hand under England's pillow, withdrawing Surprise 2. England sat up though his eyes still focused on the rose in his hands and America fixed his position so that he was on just one knee.

His heart hammered, though it really shouldn't have after nearly 70 years of being in this relationship. England's attention was diverted suddenly, his eyes widening and his mouth agape just a little bit as America revealed Surprise 2 to be a nice-looking velvet-covered box. Both America's and England's cheeks were aflame, but America couldn't stutter or anything! To do so would not be very heroic! His fingers opened the box and he coughed to the side before steeling his gaze to capture England's. The ring was a simple band of platinum, reflecting all the light in the room that it possibly could.

"I was thinking, England, and I was thinking that you should marry me." Why was he so breathless? He was so much stronger than that!

England didn't say anything right away which, admittedly, crushed America's pride the tiniest bit, but America chalked it up to England just being so … so … _flabbergasted_that he couldn't get the resounding, "Yes!" out. (He would also make it a point to use 'flabbergasted' in a later conversation despite not knowing its exact definition.)

"I…" England began. He gulped and if America's eyes weren't tricking him—he wasn't wearing his glasses after all—he could have sworn that was fear lurking in England's eyes. "America, this isn't a joke, is it…?"

Rather than think of being insulted at the words, America shook his head. "No? I know I waste money a lot, but I'm not gonna just go spend money on a ring and change the genetic code of a flower for just anyone or for a joke, however awesome it would be to do that."

America pushed it out of his mind, going back to his one-sided staring contest with England. The smaller gazed at the rose, feeling its petals once more—oh it was real, all right—and a soft smile graced his features as his eyes relaxed.

"I don't mean this politically, either," America insisted. "You don't have to be the _real_51st state and I don't really wanna be a colony again. I just mean … personally. I want to marry you."

Still England wasn't saying anything, still gazing at the rose and finally at the ring in America's now-trembling hands.

"It's just a, 'Yes,' or a, 'No,' but a, 'Yes,' would be really cool. And I know that not all of my states are cool with two dudes getting hitched, but DC is and your government kinda is, so we'd be okay—I think."

England's hand reached out, threading his fingers through America's hair as he moved to sit with his legs folded before him. His eyes were glassy and his hand came down to cup America's cheek. "America…" he said. "I will most certainly marry you."

America smiled immediately, leaping up and punching his fist into the air with an excited hiss of, "Ffff—_yesss_!" England smiled widely as well and America tackled England flat onto the bed, kissing him hard and still laughing.

"Ameri—mmph! The rose!"

"S'fine!"

It was; America had grabbed it, setting it to the side, and straddled England as he felt familiar, calloused hands rest themselves just over America's ears as their kiss slowed. America pulled back, his smile still at a thousand watts and he grabbed England's left hand, sliding the band onto his ring finger. Pride filled him and he laced his fingers with England's.

"I'm really happy," he said.

England grinned warmly. "I am, too, America."

England hadn't mentioned anything about the pillow and Tooth Fairy conversations; he'd probably figured it out on his own, but America wasn't going to ruin the moment. The Tudor Rose was quickly set in a small vase with a bit of water on England's desk and America had lost count of the kisses they'd given the other since settling back in bed. Sleep had been difficult to come by in their excitement, but both could find relief of the adrenaline rush the next morning when America would whine about the marmite on his toast but be comforted that England would wear his ring proudly.

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><p>END<p> 


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